


Perfect Synchronization

by townshend



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/townshend/pseuds/townshend





	Perfect Synchronization

Shaun and Rebecca had packed everything up in a hurry and had it ready to go - after Lucy and Desmond made sure nobody was lurking behind to follow them, the group of four made their getaway, Rebecca driving in a way Desmond had never experienced before as Shaun, normally cool and collected, sat in the passenger's seat attempting to keep from chewing his fingernails off. Lucy and Desmond sat in the backseat packed in among various equipment (although Shaun kept his backup laptop in his own lap, as if he didn't trust anyone else to take the proper care of it). Lucy was still panting for breath, staring down into her lap. Desmond watched her; watched Rebecca; watched the window, his heart beating fast.

Being in the Animus produced something of a high, and combined with the adrenaline rush that had been Abstergo's invasion of their base, he felt sick, dizzy, and plain _trapped_ in the truck, but he knew better than to ask where they were going or how much longer it would take. The silence in the truck was somber, and Desmond knew that everybody was thinking all at once, about the last things Desmond had seen through Ezio; about Abstergo; about everything.

All Desmond could really think was how angry he was. If Ezio and the Assassins of Renaissance Italy had an enemy, they'd face them head-on. Lucy had said he'd needed to live Ezio's memories to get ready, but all they were doing was running away. It wasn't as if he didn't know Abstergo up and down - he knew how tough they were as an enemy; he knew how destructive and violent they could be - but how long would he spend getting ready for a fight that would never come? How long would Abstergo be allowed to continue what they'd been doing, in one form or another, since before time?

He turned his gaze out the window again, fingers tightening into fists. It was night outside - surprising, he hadn't expected it. Animus time ran differently than real time, or at least, it felt like it did. Of course, Desmond didn't live out _all_ of Ezio's memories - just the important ones. Shaun decided what was "important", come to think of it. For the most part, Desmond didn't mind too much - he wasn't interested in living through Ezio sleeping (alone or with courtesans), bathing, eating, resting.

"This isn't a toy," Shaun had said, as if Desmond didn't have experience enough with the Animus. "It's a tool. It's a way to make you useful, and fast."

Still, Desmond had often wondered what sort of things Shaun was finding important and what sort of things he wasn't. With the few interactions they'd had, it had already become clear that when it came to Shaun, he and Desmond didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. He'd lost track of how many sharp comments Shaun had made when Desmond was doing something he felt was unnecessary, or even the chattering he'd sometimes hear between the other three when they thought he was too immersed in the Animus to listen to the outside world. It seemed that, although the four of them were teammates, they didn't really know each other very well at all. There hadn't really been time for it…

It felt like forever before Rebecca suddenly jerked the truck off the road, eyes heavy in the rear-view mirror.

"They haven't followed us," she reassured the rest. "And where we're going wasn't recorded anywhere. Shaun left behind some files leading to fake backup hideouts that should keep Warren busy for a while."

The truck pulled into a complex of warehouses, and Rebecca rolled the window down, punching in a code. A nearby garage suddenly lit up and the door began to open. Rebecca pulled the truck in with ease.

"We'll start unloading here," Lucy said over the sound of the garage door closing. She hopped out of the truck, moving towards the back. "Desmond, you need to get some rest. You've had the hardest time of anyone here, and we need you in top condition, got it?"

Desmond wasn't sure he liked being babied, but he nodded dumbly - it _had_ been a long day, and he felt so tired…

"Where should I go?" he asked, glancing around.

"Shaun, will you show him where to rest?" Lucy asked as Rebecca opened the truck's back, looking everything over carefully.

Shaun sighed, rolling his eyes. "Do I _have_ to?" he asked.

"Don't be a child," Lucy said, sharply. "Just show him the rooms."

Wordlessly, Shaun waved Desmond from the garage into the warehouse proper. They moved down a small hallway.

"How many of these… backup bases do we have?" Desmond asked.

"Oh, using 'we' now, are we?" Shaun asked, sounding catty as usual. " _There's_ a new one. And _we_ have enough. I hope. There's no need for you to worry about that."

Desmond frowned. This wasn't exactly how Assassin's guilds worked in Ezio's time. Why did they work this way now? "Why don't I know the codes to anything?" he asked, suddenly. "The computer systems, the complex?"

Shaun rolled his eyes as they turned down the hall and moved up some stairs. "I know where you're going with this, and _don't_ , okay? You're hardly being kept prisoner. We've a bit more important things to teach you than random security codes. If you ask Rebecca in the morning, I'm sure she'll be glad to impart all her earthly knowledge, which shouldn't take too long. In the meantime?" The reached the top of the stairs, and Shaun passed one door, stopping at the second. "Sleep."

Desmond opened the door seconds before Shaun could, peering inside.

"Doesn't look like much," he commented.

"I can't possibly imagine why that could be," Shaun said dryly, reaching behind him to flick the lightswitch, flooding the room in light. Desmond hadn't needed it - he'd had no problem seeing the room in the dark with eagle vision - but he sneered anyway, catching Shaun's roundabout insult.

"I'm not _stupid_ ," he said, moving farther into the room and collapsing on the bed.

"Well, I can't imagine any other reason you'd _act_ it," Shaun answered. "Sleep. We're unpacking." He shut the door, flicking the switch again as he went.

Desmond sighed, taking another glance about the room. It was simple - two small beds with a small bedside table between them and a standing lamp in the corner. It looked like a hotel room, with the exception of the vaulted ceilings with metal poles and wires stretched across and the concrete floors. Hotel de Warehouse. Five stars.

Sighing, Desmond pulled down the covers, kicked off his shoes and pants, and tossed his sweatshirt on the floor with them. He curled in under the covers. Although the bed was cold, the rest was welcome. He grabbed the pillow, curling it under his arm. His eyes shut, his head hit the pillow, and he fell immediately to sleep.

 

The dream wasn't very concrete - Desmond watched images fly by in awe, trying to piece them together. Adam and Eve running, Eve clutching a golden sphere in her hand; Ezio, watching Uberto pull the lever that would take the ground out from his father and brothers' feet; Altair, shamed in front of his peers, stabbed by Al Mualim's blade; Lucy, taking his hand, her eyes wide and scared, telling him to _run_ \--

He jolted away suddenly, gasping.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa." It took Desmond a moment to place it, but it was Lucy's voice, and her warm hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. You've been asleep for four hours. We've set everything all up. I was just wondering if you could take first watch."

"Uh," Desmond said, still catching up with what Lucy was saying; still ebbing off the images from the dream. The lump in the next bed suddenly spoke.

"The Great Desmond Miles, ladies and gentlemen," it said, accent completely giving its owner away. "He speaks with such wisdom."

"Shut up, Shaun, go to bed. You're taking over for him in four, so I'd get some rest now if I were you." Lucy sighed. "Sorry," she said to Desmond again. "Just, this first night, we don't feel comfortable all sleeping at once. You just have to sit downstairs and listen and keep watch. And come get Shaun in four hours so he can take his turn."

"I can get up for my own watch, thanks," the lump bristled.

"Yeah," Desmond answered, finally, ignoring Shaun. "Sure. Watch." He cleared his throat, glancing towards Lucy, who blinked before quickly standing from where she was sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Oh," she said, "right. Sorry. Uh, if you need us, Rebecca and I are in the room next door, okay?"

"Got it." Desmond watched as Lucy turned, leaving the room. He stood, slipping back into his pants and sweatshirt, sliding shoes on too, just in case. Shaun didn't say anything as Desmond moved out of the room - probably already getting to sleep.

Desmond followed the path Shaun had taken him earlier down the stairs and into the hallway, stepping out into the wide room connected there. It was sloppy, but everything _was_ set up, including the Animus.

For a while, Desmond sat in one of the office chairs and waited - but that got boring pretty quickly. He didn't hear anything coming.

Glancing towards Shaun's computer, Desmond frowned. Maybe he'd find something to do there. Desmond had never really been a computer geek himself, but it was better than doing nothing…

To his surprise, the screensaver came off without the need of a password. The desktop was one of the default wallpapers with a few dotted folders here and there. Desmond recognized the logo on some of them - they were Animus folders. Was this where Shaun was keeping the memories they could access on the Animus? The computer was hooked directly in…

Experimentally, Desmond clicked on a folder with the logo entitled "EZIO". Suddenly, though, a password pop-up box came up.

"Shit," Desmond murmured, staring blankly at the password field. What would Shaun set as his password? "UnionJack"? "Tea&Biscuits"? "GodSaveTheQueen"?

Probably not. It occurred to Desmond that he probably needed to find something out about his coworker _other_ than the fact that he was English. What sorts of things did Shaun like? History, obviously. He seemed to know so much of it.

But this wasn't a password for the entire computer. This was a password for this specific folder - Ezio's memories. Shaun would put a specific password on it, wouldn't he?

Desmond tried "Auditore", "Firenze", and the names of everyone in Ezio's family individually before getting frustrated. Maybe he'd been wrong about the theory that it would be specific to Ezio. Maybe he should try something more broad. Unless…

Slowly, Desmond typed in "eagle" - and, to his surprise, the screen flashed green and the folder opened.

"Well, would you look at that," he said, grinning. "Not very secure, Shaun, are you?"

There was a myriad of folders inside the Ezio folder - "Secure", "Processed", "IMPORTANT", "Interesting" - but, most noticeable was "Unprocessed" - memories of Ezio's, Desmond assumed, that he hadn't seen yet. Clicking that folder opened another set - "To Process", "Unnecessary", and "Private".

"Private?" Desmond echoed. What the hell was that? Desmond figured it was something like Ezio's liaisons with courtesans, but Shaun had always said, "Filing away in 'unnecessary', I think" before. What was "private" for? It wasn't as if Shaun could _view_ the memories. Not without Desmond's help.

Slowly, he opened the folder. An Animus command prompt suddenly opened, a female voice issuing from the computer. Desmond jerked to turn down the volume.

"Please authenticate your identity," the computerized voice spoke. Desmond hesitated.

"Desmond Miles," he spoke, finally.

"Hello, Mr. Miles," the computer greeted. "Would you like to load the first memory in this set?"

"Er, okay." Desmond was beginning to really, really wonder about this.

"Thank you. Please enter the Animus."

Standing from the chair, Desmond moved towards the Animus 2.0 chair. He slowly slid down onto it, setting his arms comfortably on their rests. Closing his eyes, he waited for the electrical shocks that would put him inside the Animus.

 

In the white world of the Animus, Desmond could see Ezio's timeline spread out in front of him. The memory that was loading now was much earlier than the last Desmond had seen - in fact, it seemed to be just after Ezio's father and brothers had been cruelly executed.

With a beep, the memory loaded, and Desmond _was_ Ezio, stepping around the streets of Florence, still so young, the tunic and armor that had been passed down from his father so big on him in comparison to what Desmond had seen the day before.

Without anyone to guide him, Desmond had to rely on Ezio to figure out what he was supposed to be doing - pulling back, he tried to root through Ezio's thoughts, finally focusing on a specific trail - Leonardo.

It wasn't long before Desmond found himself on Leonardo's doorstep, knocking quickly before letting himself in. Leonardo quickly looked up from where he was working, then covered his heart with a hand, shaking his head.

"Oh, Ezio," he said. "You scared me."

Ezio didn't speak - Desmond could tell he hadn't, and so he remained silent, too.

Turning from his workstation, Leonardo quickly moved across the room, suddenly taking Ezio in his arms and pulling him close in a hug. He didn't let go quickly, though - he held Ezio there for a time, his face buried in Ezio's shoulder.

"Ezio," he said, slowly. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

For a moment, Desmond was torn before pushing Leonardo back and holding him in return. He stood there stiffly before realizing that the indecision wasn't his - it was _Ezio's._ Slowly, his arms curled around Leonardo in return.

"Can I do more?" he asked, gingerly. "Anything- please, tell me-"

Ezio opened his mouth, then closed it, and Leonardo pulled back just enough to watch his changing facial expressions before--

 _"Memory corrupted. Switching to next most recent memory within this set. Continue?"_

Desmond sighed in frustration. The Animus 2.0 was supposed to work out most of these kinks! "Yeah," he said, finally. "Yes, load next memory."

 _"Thank you. Loading next memory…"_

Time had passed. Ezio was a little bigger. Leonardo looked the same - he would for a long time to come, Desmond knew. At first it took a moment to get his bearings - they were sitting on wood, there was water below, and Desmond thought at first that they were in Venice already before catching one of Ezio's stray thoughts - _I wonder what Venice looks like._

Of course. They were on the boat. Desmond hadn't seen _any_ of this…

"You have to be more patient, amico," Leonardo was saying, grinning wildly. "But it doesn't matter. We're lucky! If catching dinner was up to you, everyone on this boat would starve!"

"I would figure it out quickly if it was a matter of that," Ezio replied, half offense, half amusement.

"I don't doubt that," Leonardo said, serenely. "You have that way about you, Ezio. Everything just goes… right." Desmond suddenly felt something warm, and maybe it was a glitch, but it took him a moment to realize that Leonardo's hand was on his.

It was quiet for a long time.

"Thank you," Leonardo said, slowly, "for… everything you've done. For getting me here safely, through the mountains. For… being my friend for these years."

"Of course," Ezio replied quietly. "You act as if it was a difficult task."

Leonardo laughed quietly. Desmond wasn't sure if Ezio recognized it, but it was easy for him to hear just the ounce of bitterness in that laugh. "I'm not so sure it isn't," he admitted. "You seem to be taking care of me. I hope I can pay that all back someday."

"I'm sure you can," Desmond said, almost too quickly. Ezio hadn't. He knew that right after the words had come out of his mouth - but it didn't stop Leonardo from reacting to them - he looked up, a little surprised, before smiling, his fingers suddenly interlacing with Ezio's.

"Is that so?" he asked. "Well, if you say something, it must be true, amico." And with that, Leonardo slowly rested his head on Ezio's shoulder, squeezing his hand before releasing. For a moment, Desmond basked in it, before--

 _"Memory corrupted. Switching to next most recent memory within this set. Continue?"_

Again? Desmond looked up - Leonardo, the boat, the ocean were all gone. "Load next memory," he sighed.

 _"Thank you. Loading next memory…"_

The world fritzed in very suddenly - Desmond looked around, curious. Venice. What year was it? Experimentally, he brushed his hand over his chin - stubble, but no hair. That helped him a bit. He checked his hand, noting the burn - the Assassin's Mark.

Desmond would have to be blind not to see a pattern emerging - but what did it all _mean_? Why had Shaun hidden the memories of Leonardo da Vinci that weren't important to the missions? Other memories he'd tossed in the "Unnecessary" folder. Why were these separated out?

Shaun was a historian, Desmond reminded himself. Maybe he had an interest in Leonardo? After all, his life was highly under speculation from what little Desmond knew about it. But all of these memories seemed so… personal. Maybe Shaun was working on his Master's degree, and he'd chosen to write some kind of paper on Leonardo da Vinci's personal life? But using the Animus for that?

 _"It's not a toy, Desmond,"_ he'd said. _"It's a tool."_

 _Weird,_ Desmond thought. _This whole thing is--_

He hadn't been paying attention - Ezio had been acting on his own, walking. Walking towards Leonardo's home. This time, he didn't even knock before coming in - and Leonardo turned, at a canvas, his clothes covered in paint splotches. He didn't look surprised, like he'd expected Ezio's arrival. Wordlessly, they met in the middle of the workshop, Ezio's wide strides taking him more than halfway in, and he opened his arms, and they embraced--

For a moment, Desmond thought Ezio was only going to kiss Leonardo on the cheek - a move that normally would have been unusual for Ezio but was not uncommon among friends in Renaissance Italy. Instead, though, when Ezio pursed his lips, he and Leonardo's mouths met, and Desmond yanked back suddenly, shocked.

Leonardo's eyes flicked open, looking at Ezio through shy, lidded eyes. "Ezio--" he started, slowly.

Desmond couldn't understand what was happening. He stared at Leonardo, mouth parted.

 _"Warning. Action must be taken. Desychronization imminent."_

 _This_ was what Shaun was collecting? And why? Why were there even memories like these to collect?

Slowly, Desmond reached up with Ezio's hand, fingers burrowing in Leonardo's hair, tangling in the strands. This was… what he was supposed to do? The Animus was for him to _learn_ from his ancestor's memories… but this wasn't something he wanted to learn, was it? It certainly wasn't something he needed to learn to be an Assassin.

Leaning in, Desmond did what he needed to do to keep from desynchronizing. He pressed Ezio's lips to Leonardo's, watching as Leonardo's eyes slid shut again, fingers gripping Ezio's clothes. Where had this come from? What did this mean? How long had it been like this between them? They were seven years apart - it couldn't have been too early, Ezio had been so _young_ \--

Their lips stayed pressed together, even as Ezio's mouth opened. Leonardo seemed hesitant - he wasn't sure what to do, or maybe wasn't sure how much he _should_ do, but he experimentally felt Leonardo's tongue brush against Ezio's bottom lip, and Desmond's heart was pounding, _Ezio's_ heart was pounding, everything was--

 _"Memory terminated. Please standby."_

Desmond jerked, suddenly. "Terminated?" he asked. Suddenly, there was a shock, and he was back in the dark office, sitting in the Animus chair, shaking.

"I see you think you're clever," a voice said. Not for the first time that night, the accent gave its owner away. "Well. The secret is out now. Go ahead and take your shots."

"Wh-" Desmond stuttered, still slightly off-kelter from the Animus. "Shaun?"

"So you found my folder. Well, I guess it wasn't exactly inconspicuously named. I'm sure you've already drawn your conclusions."

Slowly sitting up, Desmond watched Shaun in the low light from across the room. So many questions buzzed in his head. Why had Shaun even had a folder? Had those things really happened? How many times? And why was Shaun studying it? Why were they "Private"?

Finally, he settled on, "What are you doing awake?"

"It's been four hours," Shaun commented. "I can see how you could have lost track of time, going through my personal things."

"Your personal--" Desmond shook his head, standing. "Those aren't yours, they're Ezio's, and Leonardo's. If anything, they're mine."

Shaun snorted. "I don't exactly expect you to know this, but it actually takes a lot of work to run the Animus, Desmond. You live it, but somebody has to separate the files, pull the usual things out of the rubbish, and--" He stopped suddenly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. Forget it. Just go to bed, Desmond."

"No." Desmond stood, suddenly, annoyance and anger in his stomach. "No, I don't think so. Why do you even have these memories split off? Why keep them? Why not just delete them?"

Shaun held his head in his hand, not meeting Desmond's gaze.

"Just go to _bed_ , Desmond," he said, sternly. "Forget all of this."

"Sorry, Shaun. The Animus makes people _remember._ " Remember the things latent in their genes. Desmond paused. Did this mean… _that_ was a part of him, too? Shaun didn't seem to have anything to say, though. Desmond watched him for a long, tense moment. "How does that even progress?" Desmond asked.

"How do you think it progresses?" Shaun asked, sharply. "I couldn't keep those things in the feed. Not even hints of them."

"But you _kept_ them."

Shaun sighed, not meeting Desmond's gaze. "It's… interesting." It was so quiet, Desmond almost hadn't heard him.

"Interesting?" he repeated, confused. "You think my ancestor having sex with Leonardo da Vinci is _interesting_?"

"Well, isn't it?" Shaun asked, sharply. "The sexuality of Leonardo da Vinci has been under debate, you know, even while he was still alive! This is irrefutable proof! And beyond that, it's- well, two people, making- a genuine _connection_ with each other, something I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand. You know, Desmond, you're not the only prisoner here. I can't go anywhere. I can't - _meet_ anybody. They're looking for me, too, you know, and not because I was _born_ to the right people - because I used my _head_ , I opened my mouth and now I can't go anywhere. Ever."

"Oh, God," Desmond gasped, shaking his head. "You're _gay._ You're gay and - no big deal on that one, whatever - but you're saving- you're saving, what, glorified pornography of my ancestors? I can't even count how many things are wrong with that!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt guilty saying them, but in the end, it wasn't as if Shaun hadn't said worse to him before.

"It's not like that," he insisted, looking away. "Just-- damnit, Desmond, just go to _bed._ "

"Go to bed? What, you'd _like_ that, wouldn't you? Are you going to think about me, in bed, while you sit down here, going through Ezio's private memories?"

Shaun nearly recoiled in his chair, his teeth gritting. "Please," he growled. "Don't flatter yourself. Did you ever stop to think that you're not the only one with ancestors? Oh, sure, we can't _all_ be drawn from the great Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad or Ezio Auditore, but there's more than just _you_ in this world. You're not the only one who can use the Animus. How do you think I found these memories? Going through Ezio's? I think it's clear that you and I aren't related."

Desmond opened his mouth to retort before Shaun's words processed completely and he slowly closed it again, frowning. "Wait," he said, slowly. Was Shaun saying what the thought he was? There were only two people in all three of the memories he'd gotten a chance to view - Ezio and Leonardo. If Shaun wasn't descended from Ezio, he could only be--

"Leonardo da Vinci didn't have any children," Desmond said, slowly. "I don't know as much about history as you do, Shaun, but I do know that."

"Of course he didn't," Shaun answered, quickly. "But he wasn't the only child by the same father. And _they_ had family. It doesn't take a direct descendant, Desmond. Sure, things get a little more complicated to find the further out in the family tree you get, but the Animus makes things easy, makes things…" Shaun trailed off, shaking his head. "You're the useful one, Desmond. Stay that way. Just ignore the man behind the curtain."

He almost sounded like he was pleading - like he really didn't want Lucy and Rebecca to find out.

"Are you serious?" Desmond asked after a moment, trying to let the entire revelation soak in. "There's so much you could _learn_ from Leonardo."

"Hence why I was going through his memories. We didn't just try out an untested Animus on you, Desmond. Everyone went back to see what ancestors they had. It's just… I went back a little further." Shaun looked actually… nervous, or sheepish. Desmond was almost certain he was dreaming. "I didn't want… anybody to see those things, to say anything. I didn't want to shock you. I just wanted…" He sighed, shaking his head.

A connection. That's what he'd said before. A real connection. Desmond questioned the ethicality of using the Animus to live vicariously through somebody else, but in a way, he thought he understood. But still… why Leonardo? Surely the rest of Shaun's ancestors had been interesting people, too, people who'd made "real connections" with real people, with _women_. Shaun wasn't telling him the whole story. There was something else - something that drew Shaun to Ezio.

Something that… drew Shaun to Desmond?

God, why did the Animus have to make everything so complicated?

For a long time, Desmond stood there, trying to figure out what he wanted to say, trying to form a response in his head. "Listen," he said, finally.

"No," Shaun said, getting up from his chair, shaking his head. "No, Desmond, _you_ listen. That's all that needs to be said tonight. Do you understand?" He approached the other man as he spoke, lifting a hand towards him, nearly shaking a finger at him. "It's more than ever needed to be said. And it's _certainly_ more than Lucy and Rebecca need to hear. Have you got that?"

Desmond cracked a smirk, shaking his head. "Seriously?" he asked. "Alright, Shaun. I won't tell Lucy or Rebecca about your - your _porn collection._ "

The light was low, but Shaun's head snapped up towards him and Desmond thought he saw Shaun's eyes burn.

"Drop it," he growled. "I mean it."

"Well, I mean, why should I be quiet about it?" Desmond asked, shrugging. This was kind of mean - and in reality, he knew he'd never bring it up with either of the girls, because that would just be so _awkward_ \- but Shaun had been such a jerk to him that Desmond wasn't going to let a prime payback opportunity go unanswered. "What's in it for me?"

Desmond could see Shaun's jaw visibly set, his teeth gritting.

"Desmond," he said, slowly. "You wouldn't."

"I might," he said. "Why not? It wouldn't affect me, after all. It's not like _I'm_ \--"

But before Desmond could finish with "involved", Shaun suddenly grabbed Desmond's hoodie collar, yanking him forward. Their lips met with almost unpleasant force - Shaun wasn't very good at this - and Desmond jerked, surprised, Shaun staring him right in the eyes as they kissed. It wasn't intimate so much as it was _threatening_ in the first moment - a way for Shaun to _make_ Desmond involved, whether he liked it or not - but when Desmond's eyes eased shut, Shaun's did, too, slowly. He'd never kissed a man before tonight - this would be a first for him - but for a moment, he felt like he was doing something right. It had to be the bleeding effect, making Desmond feel like Ezio, feel like he was holding Leonardo - and wait, since when had he been holding Shaun, anyway?

He pulled his mouth away, arms encircled about Shaun's waist. Shaun's eyes opened, staring up at him. For a moment it was silent, until Shaun suddenly grabbed Desmond's arms, yanking them away.

"Don't get fresh with me," he threatened. "What am I, your high school girlfriend? Arms about my waist… honestly."

He turned his gaze away. His cheeks were flushed. Desmond wasn't sure what to think, or say… all of this was just too insane.

"Listen, Desmond," Shaun said, finally. "Go to bed. You need your rest. We're starting up again tomorrow, bright and early. Got that?"

"What are you going to do?" Desmond asked, slowly.

"Keep watch, obviously." Shaun turned, heading back towards his desk, but Desmond suddenly stepped after, catching his arm and turning him around.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Is that all I'm going to do?" Shaun murmured, clarifying. "Yes."

"No-" Desmond frowned, shaking his head. "I meant… is that all. You and me. Is that all?"

"My god." Shaun yanked his arm away. "You need more time with Ezio. You may be well-synchronized, but you haven't picked up _any_ of his charm."

Desmond almost smirked, watching as Shaun finally made his way back to his desk, sitting at his laptop and doing his best to ignore the other man. Desmond finally turned, moving back up the stairs.

There would be more time to figure this out later - for now, he needed time to rest, and time to work it all out in his head.

 

Desmond dreamt of Leonardo that night - sprawled across his own desk, his tools tossed to the floor. Desmond's ( _Ezio's_ ) hands ran across his skin, and Leonardo breathed so heavily, his chest heaving, biting his bottom lip. Ezio spoke to him - something in Italian that Desmond couldn't understand, and Leonardo nodded, a short, quick movement, suddenly reaching up with his left hand (the same hand that had painted so many marvelous things, created so many masterpieces) and ran it down Ezio's face, smiling just a little bit.

He whispered Ezio's name, eyes closing. Desmond closed _his_ eyes, too, and when he leaned down to press his lips to Leonardo's, he felt--

Glasses pressing up against his face, and he yanked back, sudden. It was Shaun - Shaun's desk, and Shaun's chest, and Shaun's hands, and Shaun's lips. And he looked up at Desmond, and he whispered something that Desmond was sure was in English but he couldn't seem to understand.

But it didn't matter. None of that seemed to matter. Maybe they weren't Ezio Auditore and Leonardo da Vinci, but they were carrying on their work, their legacy. They were themselves. That was enough. To make a stand against Abstergo, it would have to be.

Ezio had had Leonardo behind him - his creative genius powering every step towards justice Ezio made. And just like that, Desmond would have Shaun.


End file.
